Like a Goyle in a Hardware Store
by Malhearst
Summary: In which Ginny has a point to make.


**Author's Note:** This is an AU, in which Goyle and Ginny are good friends and everything is kind of nice.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" Gregory Goyle was generally not fond of being pulled by the hand, especially not by petite red-haired women, but Ginny Weasley insisted that she was about to change his life as if that was a good thing.

Goyle wasn't sure about change. He quite liked his life the way it was. On the other hand, if she was so fond of it, he supposed there was a reason.

When they finally stopped outside a shop with large, wood-paned windows instead of walls and a big, red sign that read _P. Werner's_ , Weasley said, "Here, Gargoyle."

Goyle wasn't sure about change, but he was sure about that nickname. He shot her a sullen look.

She shot him a bright smile.

"What is this?" he asked without indicating what he was referring to.

"This is called a _hardware store_ ," she replied dramatically, her hands making circles in the air. Goyle didn't understand what she was trying to say; he could hardly read, and sign language seemed like a language you wouldn't understand unless you could read the symbols.

His brows furrowed.

"It's a _magical_ place," she continued, and Goyle wondered if she'd been hit on her head and forgotten that they were already magical, "where resides things you've never seen before."

He thought he might understand the concept of this. "Like Borgin and Burkes?"

Ginny let her hands dropped and adopted a dissatisfied expression. "Have you been to Borgin and Burkes?"

"Yes," Goyle replied, scrunching up his face in his attempt to figure out if this was a trick question.

"Then have you seen the things at Borgin and Burkes before?"

"Yes." He was dragging out the answer a little more this time.

"Well, then it's not like Borgin and Burkes, is it?" Her hands were on her hips, and she reminded him of her mother.

Goyle wasn't really sure what the right answer was, but he was sure that she thought the right answer was, "No?"

"Alright then." Ginny clapped her hands as if dusting them off and then went inside the shop without another word.

Looking around him just once, just to see if anyone had witnessed that and needed intimidation in order to keep silent about it, Goyle finally decided to follow her inside. As he pushed open the door, a bell chirped, and a wizened old man came over, wiping his hands on a dirty towel.

Goyle scowled.

"Yes? Can I help you with anything?"

Glancing around, Goyle's gaze fell on Ginny, already several rows of stacked knick-knacks away. "Weasley!"

"Yes?" he heard faintly from behind a mountain of furniture, wondering if they were like stacking blocks for giants.

"Can this guy help us with anything?"

"That depends on if you have any questions!" Her voice sounded smaller than it had before.

Goyle looked back at the man, who raised his eyebrows. "Uhm. I don't know. What do you have?"

The man seemed hesitant for a moment, then flapped his arms to indicate the mess. "Anything you like."

"Do you have brooms?"

This seemed to be something that made sense to the clerk, who immediately straightened. His face cleared, and he said, "Of course. Please follow me, Sir."

Goyle did as he was told. The clerk darted through a short maze of tools, books, and clocks before leading him right and under a staircase. Up against the wall stood a small array of plastic-covered brooms with lots of fancy colours.

Beside him, Ginny suddenly showed up. "Find anything?"

For some reason, he didn't like her face.

Clearing his throat, the clerk asked, "Here is our collection of brooms, Sir."

Allowing his attention to wander back to the brooms, he eyed them for a moment. "They don't look very comfortable."

"Comfortable, Sir?"

Goyle just stared.

"Oh, if you're thinking of your back, then let me demonstrate to you…" Pulling out a bright, red broom that had no plastic cover, the clerk turned the handle, and the broom was elongated.

"Huh," Goyle said, accepting the broom into his hands and trying the magic out for himself. "What series is it?"

"Series, Sir?"

Goyle looked at Ginny, who could hardly keep her countenance. His voice low and dangerous from sensing a joke being made at his expense, he continued, "Yes. Series. Like a Nimbus?"

"Ah, yes," the clerk said, his knitted brows rising and his mouth extending into a relieved smile. "Let me see." The balding nincompoop─Goyle had recently learned this word and enjoyed using it about others in his head─took it up and turned it around, taking a closer look. "It says here that it's called _Power Corner_."

Goyle looked at Ginny. "Weasley." She was shaking. "What is this crap?"

Ginny, doubled over and waving a hand in the air, didn't reply.

Looking back at the old man in front of them, Goyle saw him purse his lips. Goyle pursed his lips too.

"Was there anything else, Sir?"

Goyle shrugged. Ginny resurfaced. "Yes!" she exclaimed, her face flushed. "We would like to have a look at a rubber duck."

"A… rubber. duck, Miss?"

Nodding determinedly, she seemed to convince him. "Follow me, then." Goyle thought he heard a sigh escape his lips.

Taking a right turn from under the stairs, he was now being led further back in the store, between rows of upended chairs and brittle recliners, collector's exhibitions of nails and stamps and glass balls, hanging pictures of men screaming wildly with a black-and-white patterned ball in front of them, their veins popping, their eyes wild.

Goyle liked those.

Finally arriving at a place with weird, cold-to-the-touch curtains and separate faucets without feet, the clerk picked something from a basket and handed it to him.

In response, Goyle looked over the rim of the baskets, down into multiple copies of what he was holding: a yellow, clammy representation of a duck. They were smiling.

Goyle didn't like those.

Leaning in towards Ginny, he cupped the shell of her ear and whispered, "Is this considered racist too?"

Ginny, mirroring the gesture, replied, "Very."

Knowing that this was bad because she had told him once, Goyle looked upon it with disgust. "What is the use of this?"

The clerk now had a permanently pained expression on his face. "Excuse me, Sir?"

Goyle clenched his teeth.

"Why have you made this? What's it for? Does it do anything?"

"It… floats, Sir."

"It floats," Goyle repeated, deadpan.

"Yes, Sir."

Apparently sensing the situation falling apart, Ginny hurried to the rescue. "One last thing, please."

The clerk seemed grateful to have a good reason to look away from Goyle. "Yes, Miss?"

"A lighter."

"Certainly," the clerk responded, springing into action and familiar conversation. "Right this way."

On their way back to the desk at the front of the store, Ginny linked her arm through Goyle's. "Do you remember when we discussed Muggle culture?"

Goyle wasn't sure which of the many conversations they had had on the topic she was referring to, so he just grunted in reply. She seemed to accept that.

"You told me that Muggles didn't have culture—that they had borrowed everything from wizards."

He wasn't sure where she was going, and usually, when he didn't know what to say, it was a good idea to not say anything. Weasley had the strangest ideas sometimes.

She didn't press the matter.

Arriving at the counter, the clerk greeted them with a smaller item stretched out towards them. Goyle stepped closer.

"A Deluminator! Wow, these are rare!" Grabbing it from the clerk, he missed the look exchanged between the only other human beings present. "Actually." Goyle frowned. "I think your sign is on. Someone should fix that."

Bustling out through the front door, Goyle held it up and flicked it. A flame appeared, and the sign was still on. "Hey! I don't think it works properly!"

Almost about to push the door open, Goyle took a step out as Ginny appeared.

"Try again," she said.

Goyle did. This time, the flame reappeared, but the sign shut down.

"Hey!" he exclaimed.

"Hey," Ginny echoed.

"I've been trying to get a hold of these for years. They're supposed to be rare! Wait until Draco hears about this!" Goyle stumbled back inside, and, seeing the wide array of Deluminators— _with_ an additional _Lumos_ function, Ginny cooed as the clerk looked at them strangely—decided to buy them all.

"How much?" he said quickly and inarticulately.

"For sixteen lighters? Sixteen pounds, Sir."

"Pounds of what?" Goyle asked crossly. He'd been taught in Potions to always identify the ingredient as well as the measurement.

"I'll take care of it," Ginny cut in, and Goyle, grateful to disappear out of view of the judgemental stare of the clerk, walked outside with his bucket of Deluminators.

When Ginny returned outside, he said, "Thanks, Weasley. You really changed my life today."

"Yeah?" Ginny said hopefully.

"Yeah," Goyle replied. "Just you wait. From now on, _I'll_ be telling _Draco_ what to do."

* * *

Prompts:

 **Word Count:** 1,496

 **Tarot Challenge:** Wheel of Fortune - 'what comes around goes around'

 **Potions Club:** Hairy Caterpillars - Write about someone who's considered aesthetically or characteristically ugly.

 **Challenge Your Versatility:** Comedy

 **Social Media Challenge:** Facebook Like - write a fic with the genre 'friendship', 'romance', or 'family'.


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